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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832407">Agonia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucidsupernova/pseuds/Lucidsupernova'>Lucidsupernova</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucidsupernova/pseuds/Lucidsupernova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There ain't no rest for the wicked, Nagito Komaeda knew that well. He has been haunted all his waking life by his past, and more recently haunted in his dreams. When the only guarantee of a good night's rest is suicide, it only takes about a week of sleepless nights to figure death wouldn't be that bad. After multiple attempts at his own life, he finds himself at Hope's Peak Behavioral Health -- a psychiatric hospital for people just like him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Suicide Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: SUICIDE, SELF HARM, DRUG, ABUSE, RAPE, NONCON, ABUSE, GASLIGHTING, EVERYTHING Y'ALL DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN U</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Darkness.</p><p>
  <span>Darkness was all that was surrounding him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly his senses woke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could distinguish the beeping from a machine to his left, presumedly monitoring his vitals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the sound of oxygen being pumped into his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the sound of air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where was he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beep. Beep. Beep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Air in, lungs expand, and then a long exhale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long had it been? Who found him this time? Hopefully his shitty neighbor who always complained about how late he stayed up. Beep. Beep. Beep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a fuzzy feeling on his arms -- an itch that begged to be scratched open again, and --  warmth? A warmth more than anything he had ever experienced, figuratively and literally. He was always so cold, so alone, but every attempt to take his life was warm-- then cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Movement halted his thoughts, panic set in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He wasn't alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       He wasn't alone? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh Nagito..." the voice of his mother spoke through the rapid beeps of his heightened heart rate. "I told you... you can't get away that eas’ly. Sufferin’... " -- a sniffle. Then, his hand was grabbed like a life line by cold, dry, tear stained claws. "it's your birthright."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he could, he'd scream and tear his bandages open in attempt to get at his wrist again. But he was tired.. oh so tired. He let go and drifted. The beeps echoed into another time and place. Another dream. A good dream. As another person, a pure person. One untainted by the hauntings of his past. He drifted into grassy knolls and cloud filled skies. Where the wind kissed his face and he could smile. A time saturated with smells of lavender, his vision filled with hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beep. Beep. Beep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he awoke again he was alone in the dark of the hospital, with only the cold comfort of despair holding him. There was a time sleeping helped him, but the cold began to set in: that even in his dreams he was never free. His life haunted him, awake and asleep. That, and he had failed again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How many times had he attempted to take his life? This had to be in the double digits, he stopped counting as everyday it felt as if he were already in hell. His only solace in sleep, which came to him frequently, but never well. Out of all the time he spent sleeping, most had become a terrors of the night. Out of 12 hours a day, perhaps two hours a night were spent without nightmare after nightmare only leading him to wake up crying, ripping his skin apart, and screaming. Slowly the nightmares weren't worth the couple of hours of rest. So he stopped sleeping for good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was until he couldn’t handle it anymore and began to try to end it. There, he found rest but no matter how hard he tried or how he did it, it never stuck. The doctors called him “Lucky”, it was his new nickname as a hospital regular cause they’d never seen “someone so lucky in their life!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucky? The thought pissed him off so badly that he couldn’t even kill himself, he tried even harder this time. And the time before, and the time before. But no matter how hard he tried, he always came through. It was morbid, it was addicting, the sleep, it was magical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continued drifting in and out for the next few days. He honestly couldn't remember what he did to fuck himself up so badly this time, but he didnt care as long as the brightside he got was the warmth that death brought him. The warmth and the good sleep. Did he figure out how long had it been? a week? a month? a year??? He didn’t care as he drifted back and forth, each time the monitor’s beeps bringing his consciousness out for a thought or two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He definitely overdosed on his antipsychotics. He always cut himself, so he doubted that did it, but the handle of cheap vodka probably didn't help stop the bleeding… Well, regardless of what it was, it wasn't successful so it hardly mattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beep. Beep. Beep.  People came and went, whether they were visitors or nurses, he did not know, nor did he necessarily care. If they cared about him they'd just let him go and die like he wanted, but apparently that won't happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beep. Beep. Beep. His eyes fluttered and light stung them, his vision was spotty and wet.. He was awake, but of course no one was there to witness it. He leaned up out of bed, "Hnnnngg... ' a groggy moan escaped his dried lips as he blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beep. Beep. Beep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His eyes laid on a glass of water by his bed side in which he practically lunged towards, knocked it over the edge as a loud clang of plastic on tile echoed around the room. He moaned again and held his hands over his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Dumb ass. Moron. Can't even pick up a cup, stupid,, fuckin,, you piece of --</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <b>Oh</b>
  <span>" His stomach lurched "</span>
  <b>sweetheart,, you're awake</b>
  <span>." and out of the corner of his eye he saw it -- his mother. She looked as pale and brittle as ever with wrinkles in all the wrong places. She tucked a long strand of dry white hair behind her ear as she bent down to pick up the fallen cup, tutting at him. "</span>
  <b>Oh love,” </b>
  <span>the monitor beeps thrice more,</span>
  <b> “you should be more careful.</b>
  <span>"  Her lips smiled faintly while her eyes bored cold and mercilessly through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sick. He was going to be sick. Barely making it over the bed, he threw up onto the floor managing to tear a few wires out of their home. It was all so much -- too much. The beeping in the room alerting the nurses of things-not-being-where-they-were-supposed-to-be; his heart monitor beeping feverishly; the blood rushing in his ears; the sting of light in his eyes; the white and bright of the hospital room; His vision began to tunnel and he held onto the metal bar of his hospital bed as he gagged again, emptying more of his stomach acid onto the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared in shock, hand raised slightly, curled into a fist. Whether she was ready to pull him up by his hair or punch the living daylights out of him he was unsure, as a nurse came in alarmed by the rapid beeping on the heart monitor brought on by none other than the woman herself. The nurse helped him clean up and shushed him as he stuttered and muttered apologies in between gagging and choking, eyes watering due to fear and shame attempting his hardest not to spill over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he could breath more than one breath without vomiting, he raised his head. The nightmare had dissipated during the whole ordeal, leaving nothing but the taste of bile. The nurse helps him lay down and hooks him back up, she screams something or another and then -- Darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nagito jumps out of bed, heart pumping and eyes scanning the room -- a scream jumps it’s way from his stomach out of his mouth before he can contain it, making the nurse jump out of her chair onto the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goddammit, you sonna’ --” She halts, wiping drool off her face clearly sleeping instead of watching him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry -- where -- am -- Where am I? What --.” he stuttered and stammered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She huffed “For the </span>
  <b>
    <em>love </em>
  </b>
  <span>of -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sit </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and he did as told. He sat back into the hospital bed that was situated in the middle of the room, legs and arms crossed in opposition. She seemed pleased and followed suit, sitting back down in her chair. Nagito focused on lowering his rapid breathing as he watched the nurse pick a blanket off the floor and laid it over her. “ ’s okay.” he exhaled, she shimmied down the back of the chair and snuggled further into her blanket. “ ’Nother dream?” she asked him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Another dream,” he chuckled humorlessly, then whispered to himself “and another night with no rest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re we gonna do with you, Lucky?” She asked, yawning. The clock read 4 A.M.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you start by letting me go?” He asked, melancholy spilling from every orifice knowing what the answer was full well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya know, that ain't quite the option, kid.” She looked at him with teary eyes, whether from how sleepy she was or how much pity she had for him, he didn’t dare ask. “Now go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.” She yawned and pulled out her phone, scrolling until she passed back out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nagito sighed and got comfortable -- knowing full well he was about to stare at the wall for the next three hours.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hope's Peak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nagito enters Hope's Peak</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nagito had spent time in hospitals, answering all their questions. It shouldn't be less than a week with a newly written diagnosis of "PTSD", among whatever other things, and be on his way. No one cared to help an insignificant speck like him, and he didn’t blame them -- he was just that. A waste of space and effort. What astounded him the most was what he did to end up here. Who would'a thought he would've not only </span>
  <em>
    <span>stolen </span>
  </em>
  <span>a car, but crashed said car into a tree. Of course he wanted to die, and after doing it so many times you go all out, he supposed. Even so, he didn't think he'd commit an actual crime like Grand Theft Auto, let alone be court ordered to go to rehab. Guess you don't think of the consequences when you planned to have died.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now he's here, staring at happy slogans and paintings of endless summers. The whole day is a blur of questions, hallways, buildings, and tours. He won't want to remember them much considering he’s currently stumbling around as a sleepless zombie, plus he’ll on his way before he cared to memorize the endless walls. Same deal, in and out with meds and a prayer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he could recognize is what was repeated several times, the place was called Hope's Peak Behavioral. They treated "people like him", whatever that meant. Due to his "history" he would be put in a high watch until further notice. There are two units that are determined by sex; females attend Future while males attended Hope. After he proved he wouldn't murder himself or others, he'd get privileges. He chuckled at the thought of gaining any sort of privilege, he’d never been so special to have been given anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was led out of the main building down a soil path. The two units sat at opposite ends of a three-pronged fork road from the main entrance. Hope on the left, the main building front and center, and Future to the right. Nagito got full assistance by two of the workers, each holding him with one hand hooked in his elbow and other at his shoulder. He would have laughed at the fact that this was the most human contact he’d had in ages. But it took all his energy to merely shuffle his feet towards their destination.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walk was scenic -- There was long grass and swing sets along the path, a swimming pool to one side, and a gym behind it. Dragonflies flew throughout the air, their little wings acting as a glider along the light wind blowing between them. Nagito had never seen so many dragonflies in his life. They were all shades; green, blue, purple, red, yellow… a rainbow of majestic insects.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the door slammed behind him he was brought back to his current reality,. He walked down a hall. He entered a room resembling a doctor’s office where his pockets were checked and his clothes padded down. After he was searched, his vitals were noted by pens onto their respective clipboards. Afterwards, he was guided through the doors into a pod. From the pod were rooms in which he was lead to his own, being left with a short nurse with long purple hair who was fidgeting the whole time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Somewhat) alone again, Nagito reflected on his wild start of his journey. Throughout the day words were spoken and food was served but every time he blinked, there were new rules being told and rooms to observe. It took a good amount of effort to recall all the details explained to him mere hours before. His body was numb and his mind mush, he hadn't felt this rested and sleepy in he-didn't-know-when. He may have talked to some people, maybe was introduced to his peers. Regardless of what was said or done, his body was on autopilot, cruising along doing what it was told. He enjoyed the mindless buzz in his skull and relaxed state of his body. He was happy to not have anxiety clawing the back of his neck, or the depressive weight of his existence pressing him down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid down in his room. The nurse watched him to make sure he wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to, muttering and clumsily situating herself in her chair, clipboard on her lap. He thought about his attempt, about his nightmares in the hospital, the last few memories he had since he dove down the rabbit hole, and the thoughts lulled him into sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a toddler, sitting still in a familiar room. It was bright and had shitty floral wallpaper that was peeling at the corners. His body felt motionless, weightless, like a doll waiting to be positioned -- legs out, back against the wall, hands loose at his side, palms raised up towards the ceiling. He was numb. He felt dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In front of him was a boy, at least 6 years his senior. He was on his stomach, laying on the floor in front of an old box television. The screen was empty as his memory faltered. Then his eyes tore away, the vision too much. His senses painfully heightened as the low static of the television buzzed, his eyes focused instead on the bunch of stuffed animals piled throughout the room. His eyes glazed over, staring at them with wonder. There were so many of them, he loved stuffed animals, he wished he had as many as the boy had. There were bears, cats, dogs, and then his eyes glanced in the corner of the bed and his heart stopped. It was a stuffed snake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flashes in memory of the older boy and his snake, being tied upside-down and right-side-up, tormented and played with like the doll he was. He was told to be quiet. Good boys are quiet. You kiss after television time, but not even your parents kiss. Are you allowed to? You can't remember. All he could remember was the hands, touching, was that right? It felt wrong but no one told him otherwise. It happened so fast and so much and he couldn’t stop him, was this a game, too?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he woke up, screaming. Nurses and Help came in and put him in a hold. He attempted to tear at his skin again, to get rid of the scabs, wounds, and dry skin -- the weird layer of filth that never seemed to wash off. Then he felt a stab in his ass, a shushing from the nurses around him, then his body became lax. He passed out.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As days went by his body became fed and somewhat rested. The veil of fog began to dissipate. He came to terms that he was at a high security psychiatric hospital, not some short stay psychiatric evaluation. His roommate was some scrawny fire cracker named Fuyuhiko Kuzuro, some dumb punk ass that apparently suffered from PTSD among other ailments. He had nightmares too, funny enough. Sometimes Nagito would wake from one of his own night terrors to see Fuyuhiko was already awake and softly sniffling into his pillow, back facing the wall. You’d think that with so much alike, they’d bond about at least one thing, but the kid had the worst attitude of any person Nagito had met. Well other than his own disgusting blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What're you lookin' at, asshole?" Fuyuhiko spit his food out with his words, both hitting Nagito square in the face. He wiped his cheek free of soggy remnants of Cheerios. The kid definitely had a chip on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing, just admiring my luck." Nagito offered a hollow smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Whatever, 'Lucky'." he rolled his eyes and went back to his meal. He zoned out and reflected on his time of morning hygiene. They woke just a few hours prior with the help of their Help. Their job description were therapist assistants but everyone referred to them as "TAs" . Nagito was instructed that he had to wash up or one of them would do it for him. He hadn't taken a shower in he didn't know when, it'd probably been a month since he treated himself to a good wash, so he politely took a towel and entered the showers. It was communal, with curtains that only hid the patients’ most private areas of their bodies. The water was freezing, but the shower was good nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't seen his face in what seemed like a lifetime. His once porcelain skin grew pale and dry,, although the rest did erase some of his eye bags. His long white hair fell over his shoulders in a wavy heap, he had definitely neglected to cut it in his depression. His eyes shone gray back at him, a small spark of hope flecked within the despair. Maybe Hope's Peak would do something the hospitals didn't.. but he was afraid to get his hopes up too much -- he was a garbage person after all, an utter waste of space in a place filled with so much potential. Plus his being here meant it took a bed away from someone more special than he was, someone who wasn’t nearly as damaged and wrecked as he was. He's always so greedy, selfish, it was unforgivable. He watched his once muted disposition turn sour in the mirror, and tore his eyes away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright everyone, line up."a TA with dummy thick brows announced: "It's time to go to the first group of the day." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nagito looked down at his food, untouched. He couldn't bare to put anything in his mouth after that particular nightmare. His stomach in knots, he rose and took his tray to the washing station, handing it to the dish clerk and thanked him for his hard work, then lined up with his peers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once settled in the group room, Nagito took out his folder. It was given to him when he first arrived but he had no energy to give it a thorough look through, yet. Papers of agreements and rules lay within, he flipped past those knowing just about full well what they outlined. What he was looking for was in the back: an outline of the schedule in which would rule his existence for the unforeseeable future.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>7:00 AM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Morning Hygiene</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>8:15 AM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Breakfast</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>10:00 AM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Group 1</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>11:00 AM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Free Time / Activity</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>12:15 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Lunch</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>2:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Group 2</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>3:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Snack</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>4:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Free Time / Activity</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>6:15 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Dinner</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>8:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Unit Group</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>9:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Sleep Hygiene</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>10:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Free Time</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p><span>11:00 PM</span></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><span>Lights Out</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened and brought Nagito out of his revere. In walked a shorter male with some absolutely wild hair, wild enough it rivaled Nagito's own mop of white. He was about the same height as Nagito, if not a little shorter with muted sandy brown hair, spikey in all directions with one longer strand standing proud among the rest at the crown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced at his clipboard "Nagito Komaeda?" his question rang throughout the room. His eyes followed everyone else's -- landing on him. A smile that could rival hot iron - Hope. "I assume that's you?"  Nagito just nodded, heart picking up the pace. "Well, come on now!” he beckoned with the clipboard in hand, “We don't have all day and I doubt you'd rather sit through DBT at 10 in the morning." the room chuckled and Nagito rose from his seat, not knowing what he’d be missing out on, just merely following social order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shorter boy walked over towards the TA watching over him, grabbing a stack of papers that, he had gathered, were used to observe him. Then he scanned his card and opened the door for Nagito. Nagito stood and stared at the open door blankly. Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> to walk through first ?? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No worries," the boy said and walked through the open door, holding it expecting Nagito to follow suit. "just follow me!" He smiled. How could someone smile so easily, let alone while in the presence of such a waste of space? Can all normal people be so cheerful this early in the morning?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked down the corridor, the boy silent and humming some up-beat tune while Nagito continued to spiral into questions of who the boy was, and where they were heading. He was lost in his head, until the boy spotted a group room that was empty. He scanned his key-card against the pad, the door’s click reverberated throughout the halls. That's when Nagito realized what must be happening, he began to panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, hey," the shorter boy stepped closer and bent down to look at Nagito's face. He crouched in the hallway, letting the door close the room behind him. The boy watched Nagito fight himself, his legs refusing to move. He began to hyperventilate. Nagito tried to turn away before he started spilling over. He knew what this entailed he wasn't ready. He was never ready. He talked about his problems, sure, but then everything just got worse, and worse, and worse. Each and every time he would spiral. The days, the nights, all surrounded by self deprecation and mutilation, begging to run from his memories. His body felt clammy and his hands shook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I can'  --” He shook his head, “I can' do anything right." He repeated the thought and wrung his hands together. "Someone like me, I'm not strong, I can't do this, I can't. I'm--" he started breathing heavily, his head spun, his legs locked and shook at alternating intervals, he wanted to run, but he couldn't move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nagito. Can you tell me..” The boy picked his thoughts “How about.. What do you hear?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Air flowed throughout the halls. The AC ran through the vents. His blood rushed in his ears </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Air." he gulped</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's right, what else?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"Your.. Your voice and…" laughter in the distance. The sound of feminine laughter, good humored cackles. "laughter."</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good. Now what do you feel?" The boy smiled and bent down to rest on the balls of his feet, hands resting on his knees. Nagito couldn't feel. He couldn’t move, all he felt was the paralysis that oozed from his fear. The cackling reverberated in his skull and drowned his senses. He remembered Their laugh. They all laugh at him, everyone hates him, he's a shameful mess and an embarrassment. He couldn't -- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then how about we practice breathing.” The boy smiled and jolted Nagito from his internal rambling. “Breathe in, two, three, four,” Nagito sucked in air shakily. “and out, two, three, four, and in, two, three, four,” Nagito began to come down as oxygen entered his blood stream. After what felt like an eternity, He was able to breath on his own without shedding tears. When did he start crying?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>" Good, now breathe in. Feel the air in your lungs." he took a shaky breath inwards. "Now, breathe out." Air left his lungs. "Use your senses." The boy egged him back towards Earth and it worked. Slowly, Nagito came down, down, down from outer space and back onto the soil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When his breathing evened, the boy got up. "There we go!!" The boy smiled, again, placing his hands in his hips in triumph. Nagito froze mid stand. How? The boy walked back to the pad and slid his card against it, the click resounding once more. "I forgot to introduce myself." He held the door open with one hand whilst making a show towards the couch with the other, open palmed. "I’m Hajime Hinata! I'll be your therapist here at Hope's Peak!!"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>first fic written so lots of changes to come :') lemme know what u think; comments feed the soul</p></blockquote></div></div>
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